Is It Time To Stop Dancing And Say Goodbye To Michael Jackson? Again?

By Michael P Coleman

Grandma Coleman used to admonish me about making mountains out of molehills, or creating unnecessary drama. That’s what I told myself the media were doing way back in Michael Jackson’s post-Off The Wall days, when he still had an afro and beautiful, dark brown skin, and initial reports of his eccentricities began to emerge.

In the early 80s, Jackson rocked a Gheri Curl LONG after they had played out. After I saw it, in the “Beat It” video, I believe, I marched my black ass into the campus Walgreens and bought the first of many S Curls kits. I talked my girlfriend into applying that lye in my dorm room, and I couldn’t wait to fling some of my new, liberally applied curl activator off of my head while I shook that aforementioned black ass to Jackson’s music.

I wore much-too-short black Levi 501s, just to show off my ivory sox and ebony loafers. I Slim Fast-ed myself down to a 29 inch waist and shaved the peach fuzz from my upper lip. I installed contact lenses for the first time just so I could wear a pair of aviator sunglasses…inside. If I had been man enough, I’d have sported mascara beneath those shades.

Just in case you didn’t figure it out, let me be clear: I loved Michael Jackson. But dude was weird. But just because he was weird doesn’t mean he was a child molester.